Violin
by The Grasshopper
Summary: (Ch. 3!) How would things be different if Raoul and Erik became friends...before Christine?
1. Vanishing Act

Author's Note:   
  
I was actually pondering this for a while, and I even searched to make sure that no one else had written one like this before. A pre-meeting. Don't worry, Christine will appear eventually...be patient with me! I want to spin this out =).   
  
~*~  
  
The day was cool and crisp, and a soft sigh floated in the air as a gentle voice of forthcoming dusk. The sun was disappearing slowly behind tall mountains, shadowed in the distance by the fog...an element that would make the day seem foreboding, but the mood was far too light, happy, and joyful as the crowd mingled about and laughed with one another. The flames of the torches rose higher, and were brought away from the tents to provide more light. Dancers took most of the space in the center of the camp, and many times stray visitors would find themselves taken inside the circle of girls by accident. Mostly men gathered around them, and the women would scorn, whether in jealousy or disgust was not always obvious, but more times than not, it was a mixture of both. The younger boys hung back, embarrassed and unsure, and among those was a small amount of of aristocrats, in a tight circle and whispering amongst each other excitedly.   
  
It wasn't typical for an aristocrat to attend gypsy fairs. Fourteen-year-old Raoul de Chagny was always warned that he would be disowned if he ever so much as looked at an advertisement. This was all said in good teasing, but the young viscount knew better than to tempt his brother. Philippe may be easy on him, but now that he'd become head of the house in the wake of his father's death, and things had become a little different. This was on account of Philippe's desire for himself and Raoul to live up to the late Count Philibert's expectations. His sisters were aiding in Raoul's upbringing, but it was very likely that he'd have to go stay with his aunt as well. She was a surrogate mother since his own was lost in the consequence of his birth. This was not something that was only recently brought to Raoul's knowledge, as his sisters and Philippe both did not wish to hurt him. The two sisters wanted to bring him up properly, despite Philippe's protests that they babied him far too much...but he was relieved, at least, that his brother was learning the correct lessons of propriety.   
  
This was the brother who, at the moment, was thrilled at the prospect of being included in an adventure of impropriety.   
  
"I want to see the magic show!" Edward had been insisting on this since they arrived, and now repeated it with extraordinary vigor. He was shy, like Raoul, but not so much around his friends, who were all twelve or thirteen.   
  
Raoul was the oldest one out of them all; he decided that he should rightfully be in charge. "We can see the magic show later, they're scheduled for every hour...don't you want to see the freakshow?"   
  
"The what??"   
  
Henri, a buck-toothed green-eyed boy, grinned and came close to whisper. "The freakshow is where they keep...strange...things..."  
  
Nervousness was in the poor, tormented Edward's voice, and his eyes widened. "Strange? Strange in what way?"   
  
Raoul looked at Henri, feeling pity for Edward and so quickly chimed in: "Not very strange...it's interesting. They have the Bearded Lady and different things like that."   
  
"A lady with a beard?"  
  
Realizing that Edward was starting to become intrigued, Raoul continued. "Yes, and the two-headed snake. But they keep it in a cage, so it can't hurt you or anything. And-"  
  
Before he'd even finished, a man dressed in gypsy garb came around behind them. He smiled, in a crooked sort of way...his breath smelt of rot and tooth decay, and his hair was tied back in long, greasy strings. "And the Living Corpse."   
  
Ever so polite, Raoul looked at the man. "Excuse me, Monsieur?" His younger friends cowered behind him.   
  
"We have the Living Corpse. Tickets are only a few francs...if you're interested. He plays; he sings...he's the best that we have, and our most popular attraction. You'll be getting your money's worth. And the end...if you have stomach enough to handle it...you'll really get a surprise. Do you, boys?"  
  
A chorus of indigent 'yes's answered him, and the man's vulgar smile widened. "We'll see." He held out his palm, which was immediately filled with shiny coins. Each boy stuck his hand out only far enough so that the man could take the money, they were still too uneasy to come away from Raoul.   
  
But Raoul was the one who hesitated. "How is he a Living Corpse?"   
  
"You will see...at the end. But don't worry...he provides good entertainment for the entire duration of the show."   
  
In accordance to his friends' encouragement, Raoul dropped his money into the grimy hand.   
  
The man's smile did not disappear as he gestured for the boys to follow, and they were lead to a tent at the very corner of the fairgrounds. A small crowd had already gathered, and there was an elevated platform where the tricks would be, so that everyone would be able to see. The gypsy left after the boys found a place among the specters, and disappeared into the tent.   
  
"Do you think that this'll be any good?"   
  
Raoul shrugged, but he was looking off towards the tent, waiting for the performer to emerge. "I suppose so. None of the other shows had this many people..."   
  
The chatter became louder as moments passed, in anticipation and eagerness. Raoul was able to pick up bits of conversation…most of them seemed to have heard of this "Living Corpse" already.   
  
"With a face like a skull's..."  
  
"He is supposedly the Devil's apprentice...he learns Black Magic...he could kill us all if he wished!"  
  
"No one knows where he came from. He isn't actually a person like the rest of us...he's a mixture...more like a ghoul, or a dark spirit seeking revenge..."   
  
Beginning to be a little antsy, Henri leaned towards Raoul. "When is it going to start? I have to be home in an hour."   
  
"I don't think that it should be that long anyway."   
  
Philippe would murder him if he knew where he was. His sisters would be disappointed in him as well...for the briefest moment Raoul felt guilty, but...there wasn't any harm in seeing a show. It was only a fair, and everyone attended!   
  
Raoul did not have much time to dwell on it too much, for the show suddenly started. He nearly missed the beginning act, since he was still waiting for someone to appear out of the tent. The crowd's startled gasps made him look back at the platform.   
  
A figure had appeared there, and a fine mist swirled out from a cape that was black, swirling with a material that Raoul had never seen before. The man was tall, his hands gloved...in fact, there was not a part of him that was not covered. The mask was black as well, and Raoul saw two eyes beneath it...shining yellow, though of course that must be an illusion. No one had eyes that color! For a few moments the tall, dark man was still, and then his hands rose, gracefully, moving as though he was guiding an invisible force. The air around him seemed to ripple, with heat, and a fine line of fire started with his gesture, dim at first, but slowly magnified until high flames surrounded him. The crowd's responses were awed, and Raoul found that again all of his friends had flocked behind him and were peeking around him with wide-eyed wonder. He had never seen magic tricks like these. With just a simple gesture, things disappeared and reappeared again...fire and air...all of the elements moved in accordance to the magician, completely in agreement to his wishes. Perhaps what he heard was correct, perhaps this was the apprentice to the Devil! Raoul believed in the Devil, without a shadow of a doubt. He was a good Catholic, and his hand sought his pocket where his crucifix safely rested.  
  
As his fingers grazed it, the masked man raised his eyes...and he and Raoul's gaze met, across the heads of the crowd...just for a moment. There was a sardonic mockery that Raoul could see in his eyes. And, almost with guilt, he released the beads in his pocket and bravely did not look away. It seemed like infinity before the yellow eyes finally left his, and Raoul realized that he had not breathed even once in those moments.  
  
The show did not last long, or didn't seem to. After only a time, music came from nowhere and yet everywhere... It was the figure that was playing, and Raoul was surprised that it was the same instrument he'd been trying to learn. The violin.   
  
He listened, and knew right away that he'd never been able to play in a way that came close to matching what he heard now. Raoul was not a musician, but he did not have to be to know the flawlessness of the man's talent...and the mesmerizing quality. Time passed and yet did not seem to. He found people around him weeping, even reaching out towards the music as if to find something tangible. None of the boys were speaking now, no one was... He only heard the soft cries of women and the wrenching, heartbroken tears of men. It was their defeat now presentable before them, to show the helplessness of what they lost in the world and what would never be theirs again.  
  
Raoul saw his mother, and he realized that he'd been shaking.   
  
The music ended so abruptly that it took a moment for the spell to break, but the man did not wait that long before he lifted the mask, and the hatred was so visible underneath that it made Raoul shudder all the more.   
  
His face was horrific. Skull-like, Death himself...and living! It mattered, as all the features came alive, and reacted with the horror and screams of the shocked crowd. Raoul barely had time to see, but he saw the yellowed drum-like quality, the lack of a nose, and the all-seeing eye sockets with menacing, yellow pinpoints. He took all of it in, in only a matter of seconds. Yet there was also an air of triumph, among the abhorrence...he'd destroyed their dreams first...it was his revenge.  
  
Appropriately, the man disappeared in smoke and fire...just as he had appeared.  
  
At first there was no applause. Then it was slow, deliberate, and intensified until everyone was laughing and smiling. Forgotten is adults' sadness...it lingers in children's minds for far longer, despite the wishful belief that children have always been able to overcome such things. But the music...it touched their hearts in such a way that it could not be forgotten. They were pure, and some of it was taken away and given to the masked man with their new, unfathomable emotions that children were not meant to feel.   
  
And so Raoul was still shaking.  
  
Henri was the first one to speak, and the lightheartedness that is in all young boys was oddly absent. "I need to go home now."   
  
Raoul didn't speak, and as the rest of the boys moved away...it was only his friend Henri who hesitated. "Aren't you coming with us?"  
  
"No. You go ahead." Raoul was still staring at the platform.  
  
There was no answer, but he heard the sounds of his friends leaving. The rest of the crowd was thinning and moving away in groups to find their entertainment elsewhere, and Raoul was soon left alone.   
  
The two tent flaps were still closed, and Raoul could see no light. But where else could the man have gone? There was some odd desire to talk to him...to see if he was the Devil's apprentice...or to simply see. It wasn't so much rebellion than curiosity. Raoul was unnerved by the feelings that the performance left him with. He hadn't thought of his mother in a very long time... Not since Philippe had let it slip about the circumstances of her death, and felt so guilty afterwards that he took Raoul to every park in Paris to try and make up for it. Raoul had forgotten...or thought that he had.   
  
But he felt compelled to talk to this man. He had to know how the man knew, because Raoul believed that he must. It did not occur to him that the power lay within bringing out the deepest miseries of the human heart.   
  
And so he went towards the tent, resisting the urge to turn around and run the other way, back to his friends and to where he knew it was safe. 


	2. Little Quarry

Author's Note:   
  
Hiii! I'm glad that you like it so far! No, this is not going to be slash...sorry to disappoint/glad to relieve. Not that I strongly oppose slash, because people can write whatever they want to, it just isn't my cup of tea =). Thanks guys for reviewing!!! You made my day!!! I think that this story will prove that not all stories just involving Raoul and Erik are slash or will end up that way. Mine can't be the first one to prove this theory though...surely not! ...I'll find another.  
  
~*~  
  
For a long time, Raoul simply stood outside. He didn't know how one would knock on a tent, but he didn't want to just walk in either. A few times, he started to call out tentatively, but his voice always caught in his throat. Not with fear, but nervousness. Adults didn't usually unnerve Raoul; he saw plenty of them at Philippe's parties. But...his mind conjured up images from the magic show and tortured him with the theory of the Devil's involvement. He knew that it was ridiculous, of course... Raoul had never been impractical, but he was young, and that was enough.   
  
But the violin... What he wouldn't give to be able to play like that! Philippe had been so disappointed when he had given it up. Philippe would love it if he could play even a fraction of what he'd heard!   
  
It had always been Raoul's deepest and unconscious desire to please his brother.  
  
And so, with the little courage that he could muster, Raoul opened his mouth with newfound conviction.   
  
"Come in."   
  
Having not uttered a word, Raoul stood in a stupor for a few moments, staring blankly at the tent flaps...but that was not the only reason for his astonishment.   
  
The smooth quality of the man's voice was something that could not possibly be of this world... It was so unlike the figure that he remembered. Surely the Devil could not have apprentices that talked like that... It wasn't a sound that Raoul had ever heard before. He wanted to hear it again.  
  
The voice was not so beautiful now, but harsh and irritated. "Parlez-vous français?"   
  
Despite the sarcasm and the increasing sense of danger, Raoul went inside. A child's courage is remarkable, for a grown man would never have dared to step over that threshold.   
  
As soon as he dropped the cover behind him, it became significantly darker. A candle was lit, but it was at the far end of the tent and seemed to only create more shadows.   
  
The man was bent over papers, writing intensely, his back to Raoul. "What do you want?"   
  
Tentatively, Raoul took a few steps closer, and his hand bumped against an odd little contraption that sat on a table. "Nothing...just..." Idly, he picked it up and turned it over in his hand, just for something to fidget with. It was a small box with spikes on the insides that left barely enough room for someone as young as Raoul to stick in his hand. Not that he would, but curiously...he almost wanted to...he felt compelled to try it...  
  
Just as his hand touched the outside of the spikes, the man spoke without turning, and his voice had now become cold. "Put that down."   
  
Raoul did. Somehow he knew that it wouldn't be wise to disobey. "Sorry... What is it for?"   
  
The man turned then, and the yellow eyes that Raoul saw from the stage were nothing compared to what they looked like up close. Striking, deadly, and narrowed...they pierced him so suddenly that he had to resist taking a step back. Another black mask that only revealed half of his face had replaced the full one that he had worn during the show. It was less intimidating, but not by much. "I doubt that you want to know that. What do you want?"   
  
Beyond the man the violin case was propped against the wall, and Raoul's eyes found it with a relief. "The violin...I wanted to talk to you about it..."   
  
Something made the man pause, and what looked like a wry smile began at the corner of his lips. "Indeed. How did you like the performance?"   
  
Blinking with confusion, the question was out of Raoul's mouth before he could stop to think about it, "How did you know that I was there?"   
  
"I saw you."   
  
"Oh..." Feeling rather ridiculous, Raoul looked away again. "I liked the music."   
  
The man followed Raoul's gaze, but then returned his attention the papers in front of him. His response sounded preoccupied with a hint of impatience. "Really..."  
  
In order to keep his interest and not be thrown out, Raoul spoke quickly: "Yes. I know how to play..."   
  
With a gesture of absolutely no interest, the man motioned for Raoul to take up the violin. Then he turned back to his work. "By all means."   
  
Raoul hesitated, but then he bent and took the case, realizing that his hands were shaking again as he opened it carefully and took out the beautifully varnished violin.   
  
It was made oddly, and not in any fashion that Raoul recognized or had ever seen. Perfectly carved and made out of the richest wood, it shone in the soft candlelight; and he could see his unmarred reflection on the smooth surface. His violin was just as expensive, but not made so nicely as this one. He remembered the sound the man's violin produced as well...light, effortless, and haunting... It didn't seem to be an instrument that Raoul was capable of handling, and he wondered why he was being allowed to make an attempt.   
  
Ever so gently, Raoul positioned the bow and began to play. He wasn't good. In fact, he wasn't even what a respectable musician would call decent. It wasn't as though he didn't try...no, because his heart was in it...at least the portion that wished to satisfy his brother. Raoul did want to do well, but it was not in the blood of an aristocrat to excel in the art of music...just to pass as a well-rounded gentleman of the era.   
  
Though at his age and after lessons, the sound was far from passable, and Raoul felt the tips of his ears redden a little when the last note cut short after he accidentally struck the strings a bit too stiffly.  
  
Then he noticed that the masked figure's full attention was on him. "That..." The man paused, and his eyes glinted as they met Raoul's, "Was the most appalling thing that I've ever heard."   
  
Embarrassed, Raoul fumbled for a good response, but all that he could come up with was a pitiable: "I've been out of practice..."   
  
"Were you ever in it?" He smirked, and Raoul's cheeks burned along with his ears.   
  
Without answering this time, Raoul knelt, tenderly replaced the violin in its case, and snapped the locks back into place. When he looked up again, the man had gone.   
  
Since he hadn't seen him actually leave, this was rather mystifying. Raoul stood dumbfounded for a few moments and then went back outside. The sun was beginning to set, and he realized that Philippe would be wondering where he was right about now.   
  
The man was on the platform, inspecting what looked to be a trapdoor. Raoul wandered over curiously and stood by the side of the structure to watch. It was then that he realized that the platform wasn't actually on the ground...but supported over the edge of a cliffside. To evade the risk of falling over the rim, there was a high wall built on the platform as a backdrop. The wood looked brand new.   
  
Even so, Raoul imagined that it would not be too deadly to fall...the cliff was barely high enough to even deserve the name. It couldn't be more than twelve feet. Curiously, he leaned further to try and see how someone would land if they happened to accidentally topple from the platform.   
  
A hand gripped the back of his collar and pulled him back. Raoul yelped, fell against the wood supports, and looked up into the black mask with fright.  
  
With a voice so chilling that it made Raoul shudder, the man stared directly down into Raoul's eyes. "Stay away from the edge."   
  
Blinking, Raoul took in a few gasps of air. "Why?"  
  
The question itself seemed to strike a hidden nerve, and the icy hand left Raoul's shoulder. "There is a quarry below."   
  
Blankly: "A quarry?"  
  
"Look again, and be careful this time."   
  
Obediently, Raoul kept hold of the wooden platform as he peered cautiously over the side of the cliff. Far below he saw a gaping hole, where rock had been dug out and set aside, but a few pieces still remained... He saw, but he did not understand. "What is it?"   
  
The man was looking down as well. "It is used mainly by masons. Stonework...for buildings."  
  
"They take it out of the ground?"  
  
"Do you know of someplace better?"   
  
Raoul pondered this question then leaned back on his knees and looked up at the masked man. Some of his sense of propriety seemed to finally return. "I never introduced myself. I'm the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. What is your name?" He was proud to use the title, and it was rather obvious in his tone of voice. He spoke with a mild arrogance typical of someone his age.   
  
The man laughed. It was not a true laugh... There was something dark about it. And empty. "Erik."   
  
Raoul stared at Erik for a few moments in thought and then said rather simply, "I want you to teach me."   
  
Erik had retreated to the trapdoor at this point and was once more working with the levers beneath it. There was a long pause before he answered. "I don't teach."   
  
Standing, Raoul leaned over the top of the platform. "Please? My brother could pay you..."   
  
"I have no need for money, little Mozart."   
  
Raoul frowned at the nickname, recognizing it as a mockery. "Why do you call me that? Mozart wasn't known for his violin."   
  
Lifting his eyes, Erik inspected Raoul rather sneeringly. "Neither are you."   
  
Insulted and not hardened to criticism, Raoul scoffed and looked away. He hated being ridiculed in any fashion. His brother didn't treat him that way...neither did his sisters, and that someone would actually tell him how horrible his playing was...it was baffling! It wasn't as though he didn't already know...but no one actually said it! In a way he liked the dissimilarity.   
  
But it was still confusing.   
  
He tried another tactic. "Then you should teach me how to be."   
  
"I have no interest in teaching." Erik raised the trapdoor and stood, but then he busied himself inspecting the woodcarvings on the edge of the platform backdrop. "And, if I did, I would have no desire to take you as my student."   
  
There was an audible finality in his voice, and it left little room for argument. The certainty threw Raoul into silence, and he sighed awkwardly and with poorly concealed disappointment, causing the amber eyes to briefly turn back to him.   
  
But then Erik looked away with a silent and indifferent dismissal.  
  
But Raoul did not go. What he wouldn't give to at least be able to make Philippe proud of him...just a little proud. His older brother would to be able to brag that he, Raoul, was well educated in many fields...instead of fearing that he wasn't being brought up properly. He could even play for his sisters if he learned one ounce of what he'd heard! And then, perhaps, in the long run, he wouldn't have to go to his aunt's, and he could stay in Paris for the summer instead. Philippe called it a vacation, but Raoul knew that it had to be more than that and he dreaded the visit.   
  
Of course, it is only in children's minds that their logic actually makes sense. It wouldn't matter to Philippe one bit how Raoul played the violin. To him, things of that relation were unimportant in general upbringing. In fact, he was rather proud of his younger brother... His only problem was his inability to show it.   
  
But to Raoul, the violin seemed to be an opportunity to permanently gain his brother's favor, and he wasn't about to give that up...Erik's rejection only seemed to add spark to his determination.   
  
But for now, he wasn't going to agree... Children also know temporary defeat, but these were small battles in a larger war. All he needed was patience and a strategy...and the fair was still in town for a few more weeks.   
  
Relinquishing the argument for now, Raoul instead asked a different question. "Can I come back tomorrow?"   
  
This time there was no answer.   
  
He took it as a yes. 


	3. The Importance Of Being Philippe

Author's Note:   
  
  
  
Hiii! Yes, I've been on a bit of an absence...forgive me =)? I have finals! Luckily they're ending this week, and I have the whole summer to finish this story! The ending is already in sight. I hate to make everyone wait so long for an Erik-less chapter, but it's not so bad! I promise! Catherine Morland--as odd as it may seem that Raoul is a violinist, he actually played the violin in Leroux. Christine's father taught him...read through that part and you should find it! Shandethe Sanders, your comment made sense in the sense of siblings, but Raoul has lately been treated more like the oldest son, because of his father's death and his sisters are probably either in the process of being engaged or will become married shortly. That's why I don't have much sibling rivalry or things of that nature =)...though I'm sure that it was very much present when he was younger. Olethros, I'll tell you now how old Erik is! I kind of stuck in this time foil around the time Erik would be going to Persia. That would put Erik around 18/19. He isn't as old as he seems to be, really only 4-5 years older than Raoul. What I've really done is set Erik back a little. No Persia. Which might actually be interesting because he actually won't be as twisted as he would be otherwise. A challenge for me! Anyway, any more questions...let me know!! I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter!  
  
  
  
~  
  
The de Chagny estate stood high among the downtown buildings along the river Siene. A bustle of activity lay right outside the double iron gates, within reaching distance, and yet the shouts could not be heard from the chateau's front steps. Rolling gardens formed a grassy slope with stone steps, center fountains with cherubs, and colorful flowers planted strategically at the base of the statues. It was impossible to enter the gates without a key; it was meant to be a refuge, a home, and something seemingly straight from a fairytale--Unobtainable. Occasionally a hunched beggar or street rat would linger outside of the gates and dare to dream about this fantasy world, until they were shooed away by a gardener or another member of the household staff. This sparkling diamond in the midst of the dirt was free from the unwanted trash of Paris, and it stood alone, tall, proud, and unaware of anything beyond its walls. Its occupants lead a rich, sheltered life, separated from reality...distant from anything not of their own pure lineage. It was a nice, blessed existence, and one that darkness could never touch.  
  
A carriage bearing the de Chagny crest stopped in front to allow a rather overweight driver to hop down and unlock the gates. It was afternoon, and the de Chagny's had just returned from church. A clanging of keys and fumbling metal was all it took before the gates were opened and the carriage continued on its path inside. The brilliant white horse was lead around a wide loop, stopping at the front entrance,. Once more the driver stepped down and opened the polished door, mindful of any mud or puddles of water.  
  
Comte Philippe de Chagny was the first to step out, and his graying hair was hidden as he immediately replaced his hat. A stylish cane was held underneath his other arm, and clearly was not entirely necessary...but it added character and looked nice. Thus, it became a useful asset to his charm. Philippe was roughly in his mid-thirties, not quite old enough for gray hair, but it was not from age and it looked good on him. He was handsome, which was a blushing trademark of the de Chagny line, and he knew his younger brother would carry this on without difficulty. Polite and only slightly aloof to general society, Philippe was well respected and well known as the richest, most valuable patron of the Paris Opera.  
  
The Comte turned on his heel and extended a hand to help his two sisters from the carriage. The first gloved hand belonged to Marielle de Chagny, a slight and rather peakish woman who had an annoyingly high laugh she had yet to tame. Her nose was tipped slightly at the end and gave the impression that she always had her head tilted upwards--not completely an illusion, in actuality! The second was the quieter of the two, but otherwise stiff-necked and uptight. Every laugh from Marielle she met with a glare. The second sister, Genevieve, did not tolerate disrespect or mockery towards anything--least of all their lineage.  
  
It was she who turned back to the carriage and spoke in a clipped tone. "Come along, Raoul."  
  
The young Vicomte trudged quietly behind his older siblings. That was not necessarily unusual, but it made Philippe pause with a thoughtful frown as the doors were opened and he shrugged off his coat to the butler.  
  
The two brothers were close, and had been considerably closer since the death of Count Philibert, but they had yet to have "the talk." In truth, Philippe was dreading it--not only the subject matter, but how to bring it up. These past couple days his brother had been different. He couldn't quite place his finger on it, but it was a significant change. Raoul's frequent trips to town made him wonder. At first he was slightly annoyed that his brother refused to be accompanied by the carriage and driver, but Philippe was satisfied to think that he only wanted his freedom, and he respected that. He'd been that young once, and far too long ago.  
  
"Raoul..." Philippe put an arm around his younger brother a bit teasingly, and steered him towards the stairs. "Why don't we have a talk?"  
  
An anxious look passed behind Raoul's eyes, and Philippe smiled knowingly. Poor Raoul! He thought this talk was hard on only him!  
  
Nervous, Raoul's voice was a little softer. "About what?"  
  
"Oh, just for a few minutes. You can spare the time, can't you? Or do you plan on going to town again today? I don't like you there so much, you know...especially without supervision. You might think that you're more than old enough, but you're not even fifteen yet..."  
  
"Um..."  
  
Philippe's study was on the second floor and at the end of a long hallway with red carpeting. Family portraits lined each side of the corridor, many heirs repeating themselves, and neither de Chagny even glanced as they walked past. When he was younger, Raoul would have nightmares about the faces in the paintings...portraits who glared back at them as if to challenge what they would make of themselves...with threat to dominate and become their own legacy...  
  
There was a story in each painting.  
  
The study was lined with books, documents, and old deeds to several estates in their possession. Philippe took a seat behind a carved wooden desk, and Raoul lingered behind the chair, not sitting until his older brother gestured.  
  
"About these town visits..." Philippe leaned back and surveyed Raoul silently, while swiveling his chair from side to side. "What exactly do you find to do there?"  
  
Raoul, obviously uncomfortable, kept his eyes downcast and traced the top of the desk with two fingers. "Nothing, I just look around."  
  
"Look around?"  
  
"At the merchants and the shops and the cafes."  
  
This all sounded relatively harmless to Philippe, and he thought about it for several minutes in silence. No mischief could befall a de Chagny in that part of town--not in the nicer part, at least, and Philippe was certain by the description that it couldn't be the less reputable side. No de Chagny would be associated with that... No, he trusted Raoul to stay away from unfamiliar grounds, or anything dangerous.  
  
The silence was soon broken with Raoul's ever-so-random question: "Can I take violin lessons again?"  
  
Rather startled, Philippe blinked and stared at his brother with unveiled pleasure. "Of course! I didn't think that you liked it! What made you think of this?"  
  
There was a pause, and Raoul continued to stare at the desk. "I heard a street performer...he was really talented."  
  
Philippe scoffed a bit and wondered silently how Raoul could have been amazed by a mere street performer when they attended the Opera every week. But then he smiled again. "Wonderful! I'll find you a tutor."  
  
Finally Raoul looked up at him and shook his head. "I found one already."  
  
"Oh? What's his name?"  
  
"Erik."  
  
"Erik what?"  
  
Frowning a bit, Raoul paused and looked upwards as if trying to remember. "He didn't tell me. I have to go back and arrange things with him tomorrow."  
  
Philippe did not entirely like the idea that Raoul was going to be tutored by a stranger to him...or a stranger in general. "So who is he, exactly?"  
  
"I'll bring him to meet you."  
  
Something about this made him nervous.  
  
Philippe looked at Raoul. He stared at him so steadily and carefully that his brother began to squirm underneath his gaze. Something was wrong here...but...what could he say, really? As a boy, Raoul needed his independence and determination. Besides, these talks distracted Philippe from giving Raoul the real talk. It wouldn't be fair for him to question things so suspiciously.  
  
Besides, if this man couldn't teach, Philippe could always find someone else. Raoul wasn't a hapless violin player, he only needed the right tutor...and then maybe he'd actually be able to show some decent improvement. Of course, Philippe blamed the last teacher for his lack of expertise... After all, Raoul's two years hardly showed.  
  
"Well...if you're sure that the teacher is qualified..."  
  
"He is, Philippe."  
  
Philippe nodded and leaned his head against his hand for a moment. "Well...ask him his price, and we'll set up proper lessons. It isn't as though there is much else to do around here at the moment; I hope this won't interfere with your studies."  
  
A brief look of distaste crossed Raoul's face, but then it quickly disappeared at the disapproval in his brother's eyes. "It won't."  
  
"Good. See that it doesn't. Your governess would not be pleased," Though lately the woman had been all over Philippe for allowing Raoul to go off on his own without her guidance. Philippe was attempting to avoid the issue in every possible way, because he didn't want the governess to be   
  
discharged...but...Raoul was already being babied by his two sisters, and the last thing that Philippe wanted was another woman trailing him like a motherly hen. Eventually he would have to be on his own, and Philippe was certain his small adventures would do him good.  
  
Besides, the merchant markets weren't any more dangerous than they would be if the governess was with him.  
  
But Philippe didn't want to talk about the governess. "You are being careful, aren't you? The streets are dangerous, Raoul...you have to know your boundaries."  
  
"I know..."  
  
Sighing, Philippe sat forward but kept his elbows off the desk. He looked at his brother for another moment in silence, and smiled when he thought of how this felt remarkably similar to talks that he and the Count had shared. Raoul reminded him of himself in many ways, and the Comte found himself smiling even more fondly at his brother, a grin that was received with a quizzical and unsure look.  
  
Finally Philippe laughed a little, successfully in a good mood now that "the talk" was over with. Genevieve would know how serious he actually could be. He wouldn't put it past her or Marielle to be listening outside the door; he'd noticed the meaningful looks that they'd exchanged before he went upstairs with Raoul.  
  
"Well, you don't have to stay here any longer... I've probably bored you long enough with this talk. Go on. Let me know what this teacher says, and don't forget that I do want to meet him."  
  
Raoul nodded obediently and stood, but instead of leaving the room he paused by the arm of the chair and watched Philippe until he noticed and looked up at him again. "I'll probably be going back into town later today."  
  
"Oh. Well, that's all right. Just remember what we talked about."  
  
"I will."  
  
Philippe looked down at his papers again and Raoul left. 


End file.
